These reflections were really beautiful and timely, thank you. I have been grieving life changes and impermanence more than usual in the last year, after moving states, and transitioning from youthful health to post-injury life and a new normal. Life is expansion and contraction; growth and decay; birth and death and rebirth. I think I was born again - again - this year.
Oh, thank you, because I needed this message. My nostalgia has been mainly focused on all of the lost opportunities. TBH, though, I wasn't anywhere near ready for those opportunities. That's what brings me back to the present.
“The past is a bucket of ashes,” said Carl Sandburg. My only response to that is that ashes tell us that something once burned hot and bright, and if it was good we can remember how the light and warmth carried us forward.
This one hit hard…I often long for the memories of the past. And FB doesn’t help. Your post will be a good reminder for me to enjoy the now…it is truly all there is.
“The truth is that we can only hold handfuls of life at a time and room must be made for what enters next.” This makes a strong argument for “seek and ye shall find.” Life is a continual journey to find association.
Thank you! I’ve been longing for some things past- fall camping with my late husband (it’s the weather for sure), a full church, family closeness that seems to disappear once your parents are gone. But today, there are peaches! I have restocked my half & half so coffee is a thing again. And fall is a beautiful time, camping or not. ❤️
Once again, Crissy Hayes finds herself in a knot of emotions and BAM BOO ZEL! What should appear? A shiny new message from Nadia reminding her to FOCUS on the present. I was getting all nostalgic last night remembering that yesterday was the 19th "anniversary" of when, in a marriage counseling session, my then husband declared he was done with our marriage. Our children were 4 and 6. I can remember so many things about that day and about that moment and I can still picture the cartoon sized silent tears that came from my eyes. I can remember getting up at 3am and calling a friend and packing up the cat (why?) in the minivan and driving over to her house in my pjs and no shoes or socks, just showing up because I needed someone to talk to. Then, last night, in my nightly aimless social media scrolling, I just so happened to come across an Instagram post that said "Being a good mother while my world fell apart was the hardest role I've ever played." True dat. Complete understatement. But. It is easy to get "crowded" with the past. To wonder if maybe, just maybe, I am not over it. That maybe I am still so impacted by the past that I can't see the forest through the trees. I may be missing out on my amazing life - my loving, beyond patient husband who is THEE best father figure for my children, my children who are now wonderful, grown adults. It was me who helped them get through the pain and trauma of a tumultuous divorce. I revel over my amazing home that I was able (blessed) to purchase while huge chunks of my then wonderful life fell apart all around me. It was like being in the center of some weird weather event that was so unexpected and felt so abrupt that I didn't have time to prepare. But I made this house a home. Not once, but twice. Before and after. Married and divorced and remarried. I have laughed here and cried here and struggled here and celebrated here and recovered here. I am here. Right here. Here for me, for him, for them. Thanks for that reminder.
I, like others, on this post, needed this. I have felt almost that I lost my life after my son was born because I was diagnosed with a mental illness which changed my life. So hard but I gained a beautiful son. We managed. Lost opportunities due to a sleep disorder which ended my ability to volunteer in the ways I did before. I would ruminate on the “the perfection” in my life in the before time. But you’re right—the past wasn’t perfect and it has kept me from living in the present. I recently went to Iceland and snowmobiled on a glacier. Bucket list! I also got a tattoo in Elivish on my arm for the world to see (i am 61). I feel empowered. It has pulled me into the present and makes me want to really live the last years of my life with grace to myself and others, with adventure and recognizing that there is blessing in doing the small and tedious things of life. I met with a new friend yesterday and she brought up your writing and both talked about how transformative it has been for us. (Sorry for long response. Not a pithy person.)
Another Pslam, 90, suggests that our lives are but "threescore years and ten; and if by reason of strength they be fourscore..." (KJV) By that measure I am well past my shelf life, and yet I don't think so. Like this little home of ours we call "Earth" life itself is full of surprises, so be compassionate generously, be forgiving extravagently, be selfish sparingly, be angry miserly, and try to not reverse that order. For perspective on how to actually do that, let me suggest reading Elizabeth Rush's Rising and The Quickening, not for answers but for questions for reflection.
Just a note: I love Psalm 90! Especially the last verse: "And let the beauty of the Lord our God be upon us..." When I was at college the choir sang a setting of this psalm by Charles Ives. It was typical of Ives compositionally -- a kind of controlled chaos at times from the clashing tones he threw in to emphasize words like wrath and evil -- but the last two verses he wrote the most luscious harmony. So, because of singing it (in the KJV), I remember it. And the music of it matched the words.
As my GenZ kids would say, this is fire.🔥 You gently brought us in and redirected us in love, while subtly making a jab (via Walter Brueggemann: “Make Jerusalem Great Again”) at the MAGAs. Thank you!
I’m going through a bit of this in reverse, by which I mean that I am learning to think compassionately on my younger self and my parents, teachers and mentors who led me in a very narrow, evangelical worldview. I am tempted to not only be un-nostalgic about the past but to do my best to see all its dysfunction, which I was completely unaware of for about the first 40 years of my life.
But I appreciate what you are saying. Both things can be true. In fact, many things can be true at the same time. Thank you for being a voice for so many parts of so many of our experiences. Grace and peace.
You spoke eloquently and compassionately about nostalgia, grief, and loss. Thank you. But you did not mention loneliness. No one, that I know of, longs for “the good old days” of loneliness. But it is loneliness that permeates churches, bedrooms, and bars. Forgive me for what may appear to be a self-promotion. It is not. People are, thus far, more than willing to deny loneliness and to ignore my latest book, “The Gospel of Loneliness” (Pilgrim Press, UCC, 12/23). But there is, indeed, gospel (“good news”) in loneliness as it is a potential portal of transformation. Thank you, once again, for the comfort and provocation of your writings. Peace in the present to you, Dwight Lee Wolter.
These reflections were really beautiful and timely, thank you. I have been grieving life changes and impermanence more than usual in the last year, after moving states, and transitioning from youthful health to post-injury life and a new normal. Life is expansion and contraction; growth and decay; birth and death and rebirth. I think I was born again - again - this year.
Peace to you in your new, newer, and newest “normal.”
Oh, thank you, because I needed this message. My nostalgia has been mainly focused on all of the lost opportunities. TBH, though, I wasn't anywhere near ready for those opportunities. That's what brings me back to the present.
That's such a helpful insight, Ellie!
So grateful Pastor Nadia that you are in my now. 💕
“The past is a bucket of ashes,” said Carl Sandburg. My only response to that is that ashes tell us that something once burned hot and bright, and if it was good we can remember how the light and warmth carried us forward.
true
This one hit hard…I often long for the memories of the past. And FB doesn’t help. Your post will be a good reminder for me to enjoy the now…it is truly all there is.
“The truth is that we can only hold handfuls of life at a time and room must be made for what enters next.” This makes a strong argument for “seek and ye shall find.” Life is a continual journey to find association.
Thank you! I’ve been longing for some things past- fall camping with my late husband (it’s the weather for sure), a full church, family closeness that seems to disappear once your parents are gone. But today, there are peaches! I have restocked my half & half so coffee is a thing again. And fall is a beautiful time, camping or not. ❤️
I'm gladdened every time you mention Willy. xoxo
p.s. this post was in some ways mostly about my grief about hfass butI 'm far from ready to write about that.
Once again, Crissy Hayes finds herself in a knot of emotions and BAM BOO ZEL! What should appear? A shiny new message from Nadia reminding her to FOCUS on the present. I was getting all nostalgic last night remembering that yesterday was the 19th "anniversary" of when, in a marriage counseling session, my then husband declared he was done with our marriage. Our children were 4 and 6. I can remember so many things about that day and about that moment and I can still picture the cartoon sized silent tears that came from my eyes. I can remember getting up at 3am and calling a friend and packing up the cat (why?) in the minivan and driving over to her house in my pjs and no shoes or socks, just showing up because I needed someone to talk to. Then, last night, in my nightly aimless social media scrolling, I just so happened to come across an Instagram post that said "Being a good mother while my world fell apart was the hardest role I've ever played." True dat. Complete understatement. But. It is easy to get "crowded" with the past. To wonder if maybe, just maybe, I am not over it. That maybe I am still so impacted by the past that I can't see the forest through the trees. I may be missing out on my amazing life - my loving, beyond patient husband who is THEE best father figure for my children, my children who are now wonderful, grown adults. It was me who helped them get through the pain and trauma of a tumultuous divorce. I revel over my amazing home that I was able (blessed) to purchase while huge chunks of my then wonderful life fell apart all around me. It was like being in the center of some weird weather event that was so unexpected and felt so abrupt that I didn't have time to prepare. But I made this house a home. Not once, but twice. Before and after. Married and divorced and remarried. I have laughed here and cried here and struggled here and celebrated here and recovered here. I am here. Right here. Here for me, for him, for them. Thanks for that reminder.
I love that you took the cat with you that night. Maybe because it was the only trustworthy thing you could hold.
Now THAT is a solid possibility and one that I have wondered about for 19 years!
I, like others, on this post, needed this. I have felt almost that I lost my life after my son was born because I was diagnosed with a mental illness which changed my life. So hard but I gained a beautiful son. We managed. Lost opportunities due to a sleep disorder which ended my ability to volunteer in the ways I did before. I would ruminate on the “the perfection” in my life in the before time. But you’re right—the past wasn’t perfect and it has kept me from living in the present. I recently went to Iceland and snowmobiled on a glacier. Bucket list! I also got a tattoo in Elivish on my arm for the world to see (i am 61). I feel empowered. It has pulled me into the present and makes me want to really live the last years of my life with grace to myself and others, with adventure and recognizing that there is blessing in doing the small and tedious things of life. I met with a new friend yesterday and she brought up your writing and both talked about how transformative it has been for us. (Sorry for long response. Not a pithy person.)
I love that you are also making new friends. I have a couple new friends and it is such a beautiful surprise in my life!
The song that came to mind after reading this was written by Joni Mitchell when she was 23 y/o.
From "Both Sides Now:"
But now old friends are acting strange
They shake their heads, they say I've changed
Well something's lost, but something's gained
In living every day
Carly Simon: Stay right here ‘cause these are the good old days
Another Pslam, 90, suggests that our lives are but "threescore years and ten; and if by reason of strength they be fourscore..." (KJV) By that measure I am well past my shelf life, and yet I don't think so. Like this little home of ours we call "Earth" life itself is full of surprises, so be compassionate generously, be forgiving extravagently, be selfish sparingly, be angry miserly, and try to not reverse that order. For perspective on how to actually do that, let me suggest reading Elizabeth Rush's Rising and The Quickening, not for answers but for questions for reflection.
Just a note: I love Psalm 90! Especially the last verse: "And let the beauty of the Lord our God be upon us..." When I was at college the choir sang a setting of this psalm by Charles Ives. It was typical of Ives compositionally -- a kind of controlled chaos at times from the clashing tones he threw in to emphasize words like wrath and evil -- but the last two verses he wrote the most luscious harmony. So, because of singing it (in the KJV), I remember it. And the music of it matched the words.
I love this; such a good-humored and perceptive take on nostalgia and so well written. Thank you!
As my GenZ kids would say, this is fire.🔥 You gently brought us in and redirected us in love, while subtly making a jab (via Walter Brueggemann: “Make Jerusalem Great Again”) at the MAGAs. Thank you!
I’m going through a bit of this in reverse, by which I mean that I am learning to think compassionately on my younger self and my parents, teachers and mentors who led me in a very narrow, evangelical worldview. I am tempted to not only be un-nostalgic about the past but to do my best to see all its dysfunction, which I was completely unaware of for about the first 40 years of my life.
But I appreciate what you are saying. Both things can be true. In fact, many things can be true at the same time. Thank you for being a voice for so many parts of so many of our experiences. Grace and peace.
You spoke eloquently and compassionately about nostalgia, grief, and loss. Thank you. But you did not mention loneliness. No one, that I know of, longs for “the good old days” of loneliness. But it is loneliness that permeates churches, bedrooms, and bars. Forgive me for what may appear to be a self-promotion. It is not. People are, thus far, more than willing to deny loneliness and to ignore my latest book, “The Gospel of Loneliness” (Pilgrim Press, UCC, 12/23). But there is, indeed, gospel (“good news”) in loneliness as it is a potential portal of transformation. Thank you, once again, for the comfort and provocation of your writings. Peace in the present to you, Dwight Lee Wolter.